Nothing Really Important
by Brainlock
Summary: Just a little non-spoilery scene I thought about that should have occurred in 4.2 before Claire went ahead and did something foolish. SHOW CANON.


HEROES: Nothing Really Important

Characters: Matt, Claire, Sylar

Disclaimer: Just playing with Tim Kring's toys. I own nothing.

A/N: just a quick scene that SHOULD have been in the s4 premiere episode(s).

-

"So, where do we get our hands on a dead body?"

Claire knew the answer to that the second Gretchen had asked it. But how to do it? The minute she had gotten a few minutes alone, she called the one person who might have some answers, or at least, some advice.

Matt Parkman was not having a good day. First, in group therapy Sylar had caused him to lose his cool in front of everyone, making them think he was 'using' again. He had to assure them he was fine, just a little edgy from withdrawal. Even his partner, Michael, had asked again before they interrogated the drug bust perp.

Of course, Sylar, his ghost or memory or whatever the hell it was, decided to show up again as soon as Matt went in the interrogation room. At least he wasn't annoying him by using Matty as bait again.

It was after Matt had lost his cool and unwittingly scared the information they needed to make a bust that he got the call. He checked the caller ID: Claire Bennet.

"Great, just who I wanted to hear from today," he groused as his finger hesitated between 'answer' and 'ignore'. He half expected Sylar to pop up and paraphrase Glenn Close's famous line from Fatal Attraction to him.

"Yeah, this is Parkman," he answered as nonchalantly as he could, rubbing his hand through his hair, looking around for that familiar-and-unwanted face.

"Matt? It's Claire," came her familiar voice.

"Hi, Claire, everything okay on your end? Dad's fine? Family's fine? Dog's fine?" he said almost too quickly.

"Yeah," she replied, slightly confused about his inquiry. "I just had some questions I was hoping you might be able to answer," she replied. "It's for a class," she added, almost as quickly as Matt had added to his own near-slip.

"I take it neither of your fathers could answer them?"

"I'd rather not get them involved," she said nervously. "Besides, this is more up your alley."

"A legal question, then? You know, some things vary by district, as well as city and state," he informed her, silently thanking this wasn't about her fathers, or rather, her adoptive father and the man unwittingly posing as her birth father. "What do you need to know?"

"It's more a forensics-slash-physics question."

"I don't know too much about that. Was this a classroom discussion or were you watching something on TV?"

"Oh, definitely more of a classroom type experiment."

"I'll try to answer, but I don't know if I could help much."

"Okay, well, what I need to know is how far out a body can land if it's been thrown, pushed or simply fallen out a window?"

"Is that Claire? Say 'hi' for me, will ya?"

Matt nearly jumped out of his seat. He glared at the man only he could see leaning across his desk. "Do you mind?"

"What?"

"Sorry, Claire, just some annoyance here at my end," he said, waving the thick browed face out of his own.

"Just let me say 'hi' a second."

_GET OUT OF HERE! _He mentally shouted, hoping he wasn't pushing anyone nearby into doing so.

"Yeah, uh, the closer something is to the building, the more likely it is to have fallen. A little bit out, and it was probably pushed, and if something is thrown out, it usually is a larger distance," he informed her.

"Okay, thanks, that helps a lot," she said cheerily.

"What are you guys doing, throwing watermelons out windows like on Letterman?"

"What? Oh, no, nothing like that," she replied. "Nobody you need to worry about."

"Okay then--wait, wait? No_body_?" he asked. "Claire, what are you up to?" he asked in his most authoritive warning tone.

"Don't worry, Matt, I'll be fine! I'm indestructible, remember?"

Matt sighed. "If you get busted, I'm disavowing all knowledge of this conversation to your father!" he warned her.

"Don't worry, he'll never know."

"Have you met Noah Bennet? He's going to find out what you're up to, Claire."

"Don't worry, he already knows what happened. Just don't tell him what I'm up to and we'll be fine!"

Matt sighed, trying to ignore the ghost dancing around in front of him. "Claire?"

"Yeah, Matt?"

"Speaking _as_ a father, be careful, okay?"

"Relax, Matt. It's nothing really important. Thanks, again."

"Will you let me know how it turns out, okay?"

"Sure, just don't tell my dads."

Matt was about to say "I won't," when the line went dead.

"She's lying, you know. She's up to something."

Matt glared at the killer in front of him as he snapped his phone closed.

"Don't you want to know what it is?" he taunted. "Poke around in that pretty skull of hers?"

Matt tried to ignore him, turning to his paperwork.

"It's fairly easy," he said. "I've already seen it, though. It's nothing really special."

Matt looked up to see his ghost had disappeared again.

"Got me," came a disembodied chuckle. "I lied."

__________


End file.
